Distant Neighbours

In tree lined Clifton's white-washed mansions,
in desert Indus town
we lived our white-walled
separate lives.

Separated by sixty yawning yards,
terrifying chasms
created by
many miles of bitter years.

Across that tragic harvest
we reached out;
sometimes
our minds met
and there was friendship.

Now,
as you stand poised
to shed your outer raiment
and make another life,
I wonder,
will those yawning yards,
those terrifying chasms,
disappear?

For how much longer
must our countries be
distant neighbours;
as once we were
in desert Indus town?